The illustrations are delightful and are even sublime in the moments when words give way to image, trying to communicate the grace and tension of ballet. The conclusion of the memoir is rushed. Although Siegel says she leaves ballet because of a hurt ankle, there is only one image that suggests a serious injury and it is not defined nor explained. A tacit nod to the body image issues and eating disorders dancers often face is also shown only briefly in a series of three side-by-side panels showing smaller portions and a less happy Siena “enjoying” her dinner. The life after ballet two pages is simply too harried and glossed over, perhaps allowing the younger reader to just enjoy the idea and idealism of dance. Ballet, for all its beauty, is a brutal career path, one that rarely leaves the dancer without some scars as a result of the tremendous sacrifices the dancer must make over a lifetime. I would have liked to see more of the emotional struggle but I appreciate why the author chose not to go too deep.
The Waters and the Wild
by Francesca Lia Block is a novel about friendship, about coming-of-age, and is so richly infused with lyricism and magic that I have fallen in love with Block all over again. The truth is, I haven’t be as adoring of her works of late, disappointed in her hitting the same note but without the same resonance and with each new book my disenchantment was growing.
From the very first page, a list of thirteen ways of knowing . . . well, I don’t want to give anything away. In any event, Block weaves a beautiful tapestry of emotion, with small details that perfume the pages perfectly. This is why I keep reading Block, kept reading in hopes that she would pull all of her talents together again in a way that would make me want to dance, leave me shimmering with enthusiasm. Block invites her readers to read more, to write more, to create more, and what more could anyone hope from a novel that is written for a young adult audience?
Speak
by Laurie Halse Anderson . . . I don’t really know what I can possibly say about this book I had avoided it for a while because I thought it couldn’t live up to its hype. By the time I reached the conclusion, which I found overly convenient and contrived, I had tears in my eyes in spite of the clumsy climax.
The narrator’s voice is perfectly written, quirky without falling into that false adolescence snarkiness that some writers seem to think honestly communicates teenaged angst. Instead, Melinda expresses herself on the page with a candor and humor that is never off-putting, ironic given that she herself is sinking into silence. Unable to speak one truth, she gradually is unable to speak at all.
I can easily see why this book has earned so much praise and even awards. If I were teaching, I would have no trouble finding creative ways to teach this book nor would I have any qualms discussing the book’s rather sensitive subject. I have no doubt that this book has been foolishly banned by some overzealous and narrow-minded parents.
The highest praise I ever received as a poet is, “I wish I had written that line.” All I can say is I wish I had written this book but I am glad someone wrote it even if I didn’t.
And if you are dead curious about how I would teach this book, just ask and I’ll happily ramble away about some of my ideas for pre-writing exercises and extra-credit.